


Let Down Your Guard

by SloanGreyMercyDeath



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Afternoon Picnics, Alternate Universe - Medieval, An Assassination Plot, Childhood Friends, F/F, Former Lovers - Freeform, I'm trying something new!, Let's mix it up, Rekindling Passion, Root is a Lady and Shaw is her Guard, Shaw is a Service Top, also, some masturbating, y'all!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SloanGreyMercyDeath/pseuds/SloanGreyMercyDeath
Summary: Root and Shaw are childhood friends, but one day, their parents die and Root becomes the Marchioness and Shaw becomes Knight-Commander and Roots' personal guard. Their relationship abruptly ended. Now, it's been a few years of awkward meetings and avoidance and Root is tired of it all. She wants Shaw back, wants to fix whatever broke, and she's going to use a fake assassination plot to get her girl. Of course, things aren't always that easy.
Relationships: Root/Shaw
Comments: 47
Kudos: 131





	1. A Plan Is Put Into Motion

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is going to be about six chapters. Not too long. How do y'all like this new thing I'm doing with like mini-multichapter fics? It's more than a oneshot, but I don't have to commit a year of my life to it.
> 
> Also, this is my fucking story and I say no homophobia! I know, it's somewhere between the 9th and the 16th Centuries, but hey! I'm gay! And I don't wanna write about it! Only non-homophobic content allowed!

The only good thing about an assassination attempt was getting to watch Shaw during the emergency advisory council meeting. Root supposed the fact that it was only an ‘attempt’ and that the would-be assassin had been apprehended was good, too. Still, the way Shaw sat in her stiff wooden chair was worth the danger.

She wore the thick, leather armor of a castle guard, branded with the insignia of Marchioness Root’s personal protectors. As head of their army, Shaw was responsible for training their forces, keeping their land peaceful, and making sure Root stayed safe. The insignia announced that duty to the world. The armor fit her well, tied at the sides with thick leather cord and molded to her body. It was scarred from the battles Shaw had fought when she was younger, when her father would take her out on missions.

Root knew all the bloody details. Every white line in the dark leather was someone who had gotten too close. Shaw’s father had been Knight-Commander before her, when Root’s father was Marquess of the castle. They’d learned everything they knew from their parents and taught each other behind closed doors. 

Now, Root ruled the March and Shaw was her protector. The armor hadn’t been touched in years because Root was a peaceful leader and there hadn’t been much trouble. As Marchioness, it was Root’s duty, like her father’s before her, to protect the border of their country. Her father, and Shaw’s, had done well at keeping calm and Root and Shaw had continued the tradition. Until this assassination attempt. Shaw might need the armor again and Root was thrilled to see her wearing it.

Broad pauldrons covered her shoulders and the armor extended down over her biceps and forearms. It was light armor, nothing like the full iron suit she would wear if a real war broke out. Root wished she was wearing something similar, breeches and tights instead of her Lady’s dress.

Her corset was tight, but she refused to wear it as tight as was fashionable. No amount of disapproval from her Ladies’ Maids would make her change that. Her full skirts, tight sleeves, and complicated hair-dos were enough for her. She didn’t wear that much make-up either, which had caused quite a scandal a few years ago. It had mostly blown over now and people just saw her as slightly eccentric.

Root didn’t mind the disdain. She had carefully crafted an image of herself as respectful, intelligent, and slightly naive. When she was ‘drunk’, she spoke too loudly too close to the wrong ears. When she was ‘angry’, she spoke her mind and threatened violence. After a potentially damaging situation, when her advisors had observed reactions and taken note of whispered thoughts, Root would apologize and pretend to be too pretty for her own good.

It kept their March and Kingdom safe, performing espionage in full view, and let Root have a little fun. For the most part, being a Marchioness and controlling her thriving lands was boring. It was mostly math and meetings, so she had what fun she could. She wished she could have more fun with Shaw. 

Shaw sat upright in her stiff wooden chair, her arms crossed on the long wooden table that filled most of the council’s meeting room. The scowl on her face would be terrifying to anyone but Root. To her, it was familiar and endearing. Root knew her as well as she knew herself, and the same went for Shaw. At least, that had been true before Shaw became the Knight Commander and head of Root’s personal guard. 

Since she’d taken over control of Root’s safety, she’d distanced herself. They’d barely talked in years beyond meetings and occasional security checks. Root missed her best friend. That’s why she’d hired a man and staged an assassination attempt. She was going to get under Shaw’s armor, figuratively and literally.

“That’s never going to work,” Shaw snapped at Finch, Root’s economic advisor. “We can’t just fend off every attack. We need to know why they’ve come for her, how they got into the castle, and who sent them.”

Reese, the castle’s spymaster, leaned forward, clearing his throat. “I’ve already sent scouts out to gather information. We shouldn’t make a plan before we hear what they find.”

“Well, then, she’ll have to hide away until then. Out of sight.”

“I have an idea,” Root said, getting their attention. Shaw’s eyes narrowed as Root smiled. This smile meant that Root had a plan and there was nothing Shaw could do to stop it. “I agree that we need to wait for more information.” She blinked at Shaw, saying ‘I have a task for you’ and Shaw’s eyes narrowed even further. “I refuse to hide away. In fact, I’d like to spend even more time out and about, to show I’m not afraid.”

“My Lady,” Carter, Root’s foreign relations advisor, replied, “are you sure? It would be hard to keep you safe.”

“That’s why I propose that Shaw stay by my side constantly, 24 hours a day, to make sure nothing happens to me. Reese’s scouts will have time to gather information. You can speak with the ambassadors in residence. Shaw will keep me safe.”

She looked at Shaw, feeling satisfied with the surprise on her face. Shaw quickly wiped it away, returning to her intimidating scowl. It would be near impossible for her to be around Root without talking to her and she knew it.

Finch coughed. “I suppose that would keep you safe.”

“Exactly.” Root tapped her fingertips on the table happily. She tore her eyes from Shaw and smiled at the other people around the table. “This meeting is over, then?” She pushed her chair back, standing and triggering a ripple of movement as everyone else jumped up, too. “Come on, Shaw. It’s my bedtime.”

With a soft growl, Shaw shoved her chair backwards and followed her to the door. Stopping beside it, Root waited, hands crossed in front of her, for Shaw to open it. She did and they walked out into the hallway. It was dark outside, and torches had been lit along the walls. 

The inside of the castle could be oppressively dark and Root tried to avoid walking around at night as much as possible. During the day, the sun streamed in through the windows and cracks and the grey stones gleamed with life. Root loved taking long walks through the castle, but she always preferred to just be outside. Now she would have the best company.

Zoe pushed herself off the banister where she’d been leaning, talking to a handsome young servant. He paled and bowed deeply to Root before scurrying away as quickly as he could without running. The three of them began walking toward Root’s chambers and Root chuckled at Zoe’s dramatic eye roll. 

“Always scaring them away.”

“I’m protecting you from yourself,” Root answered. “You should be grateful.”

“I am.” Zoe’s eyes flicked to Shaw. “Did the council come to a conclusion?”

“Yes. Sameen-“ A throat cleared beside her and Root sighed. “Knight-Commander Shaw will be spending the foreseeable future by my side. I’ll need you to pack a trunk for her and deliver it to my rooms before you help me change for bed.”

Zoe gave her a quick curtsy and a knowing look before turning down another hall. Root and Shaw continued onward silently. Normally, Root hated small talk, but she hated the way Shaw was ignoring her more. They were too close for that.

Even though Root had been eligible for marriage for almost two decades, she remained single. The consensus among the court gossip was that she was actually already secretly married. The top three candidates were Lionel, Shaw’s second-in-command, Finch, and an as-yet-unidentified knight The truth was much more scandalous. Root was in love with someone of a lower class. 

When Root and Shaw were twenty, they’d gone to a neighboring lord’s birthday party as each other’s escorts. They’d already been friends for their whole lives, but something had begun to change between them. They’d danced for hours, and at some point, drunk on wine and each other, they’d stumbled out of the ballroom and into a dark corner of the castle.

It had felt so right to kiss Shaw that Root knew immediately it had to happen forever. Shaw’s strong grip on her sides, her mouth desperate for Root’s, the way she whimpered when Root touched her, quickly became addicting. They’d found an unoccupied room and consummated their new relationship.

The relationship continued for thirteen years. Then, their parents had been lost at sea. Suddenly, Root had lands to rule and Shaw was tasked with her protection. After the funeral, they’d had sex one last time, and then Shaw began ignoring her. They hardly spoke now, and only about matters relating to her security.

Well, Root had finally had enough. She wanted her best friend back. She wanted her lover back. She didn’t care how long it would take.

They turned around a corner, the door to Root’s chambers at the end, and Shaw stopped walking, throwing her hands up with a groan. “Is this another one of your schemes?” she asked, scowling. “Another game?”

Root shrugged, keeping her face calm. She was pleased to see Shaw affected by something. The familiar anger and impatience made her happy. Walking onward, she forced Shaw to follow or get left behind.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, digging into the hidden pocket in her skirt. “I would never risk my own safety for a game.”

Shaw snorted. “I know for a fact that is not true.”

Using her key, Root unlocked the door and stepped into her rooms. She still stayed in her childhood rooms, not caring about having more space. There was a small sitting room, with a few comfortable chairs and couches for entertaining friends. In one wall, a door led to a kitchen and in another, a fireplace sat. Root didn’t use this room too much anymore, but she, Zoe, and Carter would occasionally have a glass of wine together.

Crossing it quickly, she went into her private bedchamber. It was simple, but personal. A four-poster bed took up most of the room, with a vanity and a few dressers lining the walls. Through another door, Root kept her personal library. It was mostly books she’d taken from her father’s library and liked too much to put back. A door beside it led to her dressing room. She moved to her bed, wrapping her hands around a mahogany bedpost.

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at Shaw who had decided that awkwardly standing in the doorway was her best option. She hadn’t been in here since their parents’ funeral. It saddened Root to see how out of place she looked now.

“You don’t really have to follow me around,” Root said quietly, turning to lean against the post. “I’m not going to force you to do anything.”

Shaw looked at her with dark, unreadable eyes. “It’s your right.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Root snapped.

The fact that she had power over Shaw had always made her uncomfortable. Their fathers had been equals and so were they, station and propriety be damned. Root had never ordered Shaw around, outside of the bedroom anyway.

She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Shaw blinked and looked away, reaching out to play with a small ceramic bird that sat on Root’s dresser. “I know.”

“What happened to us?” Root asked, her voice small. “What did I do?”

Shaw’s eyes snapped to hers, her eyebrows drawn down in confusion. “What? You didn’t do anything.”

“Then-“ Root took a deep breath. She wasn’t a child anymore and she wasn’t going to beg for attention. She was going to make Shaw spend time with her until she remembered that they were in love. “Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

Shaw watched her carefully, still fiddling with the bird. “You should get used to ordering me about. It’s been years.”

Root smiled softly. “Is that what you want? Me to order you about? I remember you used to like that.”

Shaw narrowed her eyes again, getting Root’s meaning. “You should get used to ordering me about _while we’re dressed,”_ she clarified. “In an official capacity.”

“Fine,” Root pouted. She pointed to her dresser. “Bring me my hairbrush.”

Shaw picked it up, but she had only taken a step when the door to Root’s rooms opened again and voices floated in. Putting the brush down, Shaw gave Root one last look and walked out to meet the newcomers.

It was just Zoe with Shaw’s trunk. She’d brought men along to do the heavy lifting, of course, and left them and Shaw to sort it out, going straight to Root instead. The two of them went into the dressing room to get ready for bed.

As much as Zoe tried, Root didn’t reveal her plan, or why Shaw had to stay with her. After nearly an hour, Root was free from her layers and corsets and make-up. She wore a simple, red dressing gown to bed, only underwear beneath it. It tied at her waist, draping to the floor. 

When she walked back to her bedroom, she saw that Shaw had taken her armor off, and was only wearing a large, white men’s shirt and trousers. The sight of her bare feet made Root feel light-headed. It had been a long time since she’d seen Shaw in a state of undress and any more bare skin than normal was enough to make her heart race.

“Anything else?” Zoe asked, her arms full of Root’s dress.

Root shook her head. “No, thank you. Oh! Will you tell the kitchen that I’ll need two trays of breakfast for the morning?”

Zoe nodded, curtsied and left. Moving to her bed, Root climbed up. It was a tall bed, and she had to lift a leg to get on top. Her dressing gown opened and her bare leg was exposed. A soft gasp sounded behind her and she hid her smile. It was nice to know that Shaw wasn't entirely over her. There was some hope still.

Once she was in bed, the covers over her, she turned onto her side to look at Shaw. A chair had been put by the door to the antechamber and Shaw sat comfortably, her legs sprawled out in front of her, one arm resting on the vanity beside her. Root was disappointed to see her hair still tied up in its tight bun. She loved to see Shaw’s hair loose.

“Goodnight,” Shaw said, standing. She walked around the room, blowing out candles until only the one beside her chair remained. “Sleep well.”

“I always sleep better when you’re nearby,” she mumbled, already falling asleep. “Don’t leave.”

“As you command, My Lady.”


	2. It's Not Happening. Unless...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, this story has a plot now.

Root blinked her eyes open, groaning and stretching her arms over her head. The fuzzy shape beside her came into focus and she smiled up at Zoe, who stood beside her, holding a large tray of food. She smiled back.

“Come on,” she said kindly. “Sit up. You’ve got three meetings this morning and then you’re free.”

Pouting, Root sat up and shifted backwards. She leaned against her pillows and let Zoe put the tray in her lap. Picking up a piece of bacon, she sighed.

“What are the meetings?”

“Lord Finch wants to go over the budget for this year’s summer tournament. Lady Carter would like some time to discuss a gift for Countess Rose’s new baby, and you’re meeting with Lady Rousseau for a fitting. You’ll need new dresses for the tournament balls.”

Root finished her piece of bacon, scrunching her nose. “Cancel the meeting with Martine. She always tries to kill me at those fittings. I swear, she manages to stick me with every pin.”

A snort made Root freeze and she suddenly remembered that Shaw had spent the night. Trying to seem casual, Root picked up her fork and knife and began to cut her omelet into pieces. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about Shaw. Everything had seemed so normal, like any other day, and she just hadn’t noticed.

“My Lady,” Zoe said, stepping to the side so Root could see Shaw, who still sat in her chair beside the vanity table, her tray in her lap. “If I may. You haven’t had a new dress made in a year. Rumors will start about how you don’t have any money.”

“Fine,” Root acquiesced, annoyed. “I will allow...seven new dresses. I’m not going to stand still for a full fourteen. The world will still turn if I’m seen in the same dress twice.”

“Very good.” Zoe curtsied and headed for the door. She stopped beside Shaw. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” Shaw said sarcastically. She stabbed her fork into a large piece of ham. “I always sleep so well while sitting in a chair, on guard duty.”

Zoe laughed and left the room. Continuing to eat, Root watched Shaw out of the corner of her eye. It was probably too soon in the process to tell Shaw she was welcome to sleep in her bed. She’d ask Zoe to bring in a cot for her. Her eyes landed on Shaw’s undone shirtlaces. Her collarbones were sharp and her shirt almost revealed the path to her breasts. If Shaw had to continue sleeping upright, then maybe she’d be the one to suggest the bed.

“Am I coming to these meetings?” Shaw asked, her mouth full. She gestured with her jam-covered toast. “I’m not that useful.”

“You’re plenty useful,” Root responded, taking a bite of her omelet. She chewed and swallowed delicately. “Protecting me requires your presence.”

“What about my other duties?”

Root smiled. “Lionel is capable of covering your duties. He can polish platemail and walk around as easily as you can.”

Glaring at her, Shaw took a dramatic bite of toast. “There’s more to it than that.”

“I’m sure.” 

They finished eating and Zoe returned to help Root dress. It was frustrating to have to wear so many layers when Shaw could just wear plain clothes and her leather armor. Surely Root’s thick clothing could take an arrow just as well. Once she was properly confined to her costume, she walked out of her dressing room and sat at her vanity.

Shaw quickly scooted her chair away, her empty tray still in her lap. As Zoe helped Root with her make-up, Shaw stood and readied herself for the day. She took her hair down and tied it up into a new, tight bun. She dug through her trunk for clothing and then disappeared into the dressing room. Root wished she’d stayed and changed in front of her.

“Do you have anything planned this afternoon?” Zoe asked as she pinned up Root’s hair.

“No. Nothing special. I was thinking of taking a walk around the garden. Like we used to do.”

Zoe hummed, looking at Root’s hair and face in the mirror. “It’s warm enough for a swim. I could have a picnic prepared.”

Root grinned at Zoe’s reflection. “That’s a great idea! Would you mind making yourself scarce, though? You know I love your company, but…”

“But you need privacy for your plan,” Zoe whispered, winking. “I think it’s wonderful. She’s been distant for too long. I’ll pack a bag that Lady Shaw can carry.”

“Thank you,” Root said sincerely.

They finished Root’s hair and make-up and Shaw came out, dressed in her armor and breeches. She moved with a quiet confidence, steady and strong. Dropping her dirty clothing on top of her trunk, she put her hands on her hips and looked at Root.

“Ready?”

The first two meetings went by quickly. The summer tournaments were held in a different estate every year and this year they were in Root’s March. She trusted her advisors to secure horses and competitors and anything else the tournament needed. It was a month away now and everything was coming together. She really just needed to sign the final orders and approve the funds.

She and Carter had settled on a handmade trunk for the baby. It would have bronze straps and other embellishments. The child could keep its toys in there and later books, or clothes. It was practical, but still expensive enough for a gift. Shaw had even seemed to approve.

Her meeting with Martine lasted for hours. Even though she knew Root’s measurements, Martine insisted on putting every dress on her, and jabbing pins into all of Root’s sensitive places. The one good thing to come of it was the constant flush on Shaw’s cheeks. She’d sat by the door, her eyes fixed to the floor.

Root had only had to undress down to her slip, still almost entirely covered, save for her arms and collarbones. It made her even more excited to swim later. She’d be wearing exactly this, and she knew how much it affected Shaw.

By the time the fitting had ended, it was past lunch. They ate quickly in the kitchens and then Zoe passed on their bag and picnic basket to Shaw, sending them on their way. Root led them through the castle and out a side door.

She squinted against the sunlight, breathing in the fresh air. It was late spring, and the land was coming to life around the castle. They were heading away from the town that surrounded most of the buildings, toward the lake where they used to swim when they were younger. Green grass spread in every direction, dotted with colorful flowers.

Lifting her skirts, Root started down the path toward the woods and the lake. She’d worn her boots in preparation for the short walk, but she wished she’d worn pants, too. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at Shaw, who was wearing the pack on her back and carrying the basket. At least Root didn’t have anything to hold.

“Where are we going?” Shaw asked, looking around intently. “I’d be better at protecting you if I could scout ahead, or bring more guards.”

“There’s no need. We’re just going to the lake.”

Shaw slowed slightly for a moment, before picking up speed again. “The lake? Are you going to swim?”

“I am,” Root answered. They reached the edge of the woods and she jogged forward to get in front of Shaw. The path narrowed here and they couldn’t walk side by side anymore. She took a dramatic breath, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s a perfect day for it.”

Shaw just sighed and shook her head. They reached the lake after a while and Shaw dropped the pack onto the ground, setting the basket beside it. The lake was in a clearing, a wide flat circle of short grass and flowers that surrounded it entirely. They had had so many picnics and secret meetings and long talks here, but now it sat quiet and empty. Root wondered if anyone else came out here.

As Shaw pulled a large blanket from her pack, Root began undressing. It would take her a while to do it by herself, but she didn’t want to ask Shaw. There were a lot of things Shaw was good at, but undoing corsets had never been one of them.

Root undressed as quickly as possible and by the time she was down to her slip, Shaw had set out the picnic and sat on the blanket. Walking over, Root relished the feeling of the grass beneath her bare feet. She’d been too contained and confined over the past few years and whether or not she was successful with Shaw, she knew she’d be coming back out here for some quiet and sunshine.

“Eat one,” Root ordered, pointing to a plate of strawberries. 

Shaw met her eyes and picked one up. It was bright red against her brown skin and white teeth flashed as she bit into it. Her lips glistened as she lowered it, eyes still fixed on Root. It was all Root could do to keep herself from leaping forward and kissing her.

Smiling confidently, Root sat down on the blanket and turned her back on Shaw. “Take down my hair.”

“You’re getting better at ordering me around,” Shaw murmured. She started pulling pins from Root’s hair. “Small things, but still.”

Shaw’s hands were sure and she let Root’s hair down with ease. It didn’t feel like a small thing. Her body was close to Root’s and Root imagined she could feel her heat through the leather armor. Root felt exposed in her thin slip, but that had been the point. 

Her hair finally fell down her back, and Shaw’s hands came to rest on her almost bare shoulders. Root sucked in a deep breath. She missed having someone close to her, tangled in her, touching her. It was lonely to sleep in her bed by herself, to walk the halls alone, to have no one really see her. She could cry from the feeling of Shaw’s skin on hers.

Then, Shaw’s hands were gone and Root felt cold. She shook her head, regaining her composure and climbed to her feet. Shaw was finishing her strawberry when Root turned around.

“Coming?” Root asked quietly. She nodded her head toward the water. “It’s always warm.”

Shaw looked around the clearing. “I have to keep watch. You never know who might be lurking in these dark woods.”

Narrowing her eyes, Root flipped her hair over her shoulder and headed for the lake. There wasn’t anyone dangerous around because there was no grand assassination plot. It had all been engineered to get Shaw close to her. It was just Root’s luck that it was now keeping her away.

She stopped at the edge of the water and dipped her toe in. Like she had guessed, it was warm. She walked in slowly, letting the water cover her feet and climb up to her ankles. It rose to the hem of her slip and she continued onward. If the circumstances were different, she would have been wearing nothing at all, but, for now, she let the water soak her slip.

When the water was to her waist, she looked over her shoulder. Shaw had poured herself some wine and lay comfortably on her side, watching Root’s descent. She was propped up on an elbow, as calm and unreadable as ever. Despite her excuse, she didn’t seem to be guarding Root, but studying her instead.

The slope of the lake ended in a sharp drop and Root stepped off of it, letting herself fall into the warm, welcoming water. She remembered a time that she and Shaw had almost been caught, swimming together, naked, and they’d had to hide underwater until their breath ran out. Shaw had grinned at her, looking dangerous in the blue light. It was thrilling.

Now, she just swam to the surface and looked at her former lover across the water and grass. Shaw took a drink. There wasn’t much point in swimming if Shaw wasn’t going to join her.

“I have another order for you,” Root called across the short distance. “If you’ll obey it.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and put her goblet down. “It’s not much of an order if you ask for it to be obeyed.”

“Well then,” Root said, kicking her feet to stay afloat, “I order you to swim with me.”

Narrowing her eyes, Shaw debated the order. Root knew she’d given in, and if she hesitated, Root would point out that it was easier to guard Root if she was closer. Shaw sighed loudly and moved her cup to the side, sitting up.

“Give me a moment.” Shaw stood smoothly, her movement controlled and smooth. “I need to undress.”

“I’ll help you.”

Root swam to the edge of the lake as Shaw waited for her. She pushed herself back onto the gentle slope and straightened, her slip clinging to her as the water moved around her waist. Shaw’s eyes widened.

The water had turned Root’s dress completely sheer, her breasts visible through white cloth. As she walked out of the lake, Shaw’s eyes slowly took her body in. Root knew her weakness for gentle curves and long limbs. She knew that the wet cloth was emphasizing her shape and teasing what was underneath. Shaw held her breath as Root grew nearer.

“Here’s an order you have to obey,” Root said, her voice breathy. She stopped in front of Shaw, only a foot away. “Kiss-”

Shaw’s fist appeared beside Root’s head and when she looked at it, she saw an arrow clutched in white knuckles, inches from her face. Jerking backwards, Root stumbled away from it. Shaw raced toward the treeline, following the path of the arrow. She disappeared between two tall trees and reappeared a moment later with a man in her grasp.

He cursed at her, dragging his feet and trying to pull away. “You might have avoided death this time, but you won’t avoid it for long.”

Shaw growled, her eyes black, and yanked the man toward her by the front of his shirt. “Who sent you?”

The man just spat at her. Shaw punched him, knocking him out, and let him fall to the floor. She seethed with rage, turning on Root.

“No more games,” she bit out, hands clenched into tight fists. “You’re not dying because I’m not doing my job.”

“Sameen-”

“Enough.” Shaw pointed a sharp finger at the pile of Root’s clothing. “Get dressed. We need to take this man back to the castle for questioning.”

Root nodded and went to dress.


	3. A Piece Of Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter where things start to shift

Root sighed loudly, making sure the sound floated from her place on the couch to Shaw’s place by the front door to her bedchambers. She glanced up from her book to find Shaw staring down at her nails, seemingly ignoring her. Flipping a page of the book she was only pretending to read, Root sighed again even louder.

It had been a week since she’d almost died in the woods and she was starting to get bored. Her advisors had locked her in her bedchambers, deciding that she wasn’t safe being out and about, even with Shaw at her side. Shaw had interrogated the man with Reese and Lionel. Root hadn’t been allowed to attend because it wasn’t ‘proper for a Lady to see, Root. Go away.’ Since then, she’d been confined to her rooms.

On the one hand, it meant that she could wear comfortable clothing all the time. On the other, it meant that she wasn’t able to track down the man who wanted to kill her. They’d found out that someone had sent that man because they wanted her estate. Root didn’t have any children, or siblings, and so the land would go to the next of kin with the strongest claim to the throne.

The problem was her Book of Lineage had gone down with her parents’ ship. The irony was not lost on her. So, they had no way of looking it up. Right now, the plan was to protect Root until Reese’s spies could find more information, or they caught more would-be assassins and got answers from them. The only good outcome was that Root had a definitive reason to keep Shaw by her side. Not that that was helping her right now.

She’d come to Root’s room after the interrogation, sweating and out of sorts. Her hands were stained red from blood that hadn’t wanted to be washed away. It had been all Root could do to restrain herself from ordering Shaw to trace the path of her torture on Root’s body and show her how she’d torn the man apart. Instead, she’d whined about being left out and Shaw had just reported the findings.

They’d spent a week together in her room, barely talking. Root had burned her way through her library, had Carter over for wine and cheese, and taken more naps than she thought possible. Shaw had sat in either the chair by the front door or the chair by her bedchamber door, silent and stoic. Root was starting to go crazy.

She sighed one more time, letting the breath drag on as long as she could. Finally, Shaw’s eyes flicked to her and she raised a perfect eyebrow. Root grinned at her.

“Sameen! Would you like a book?”

“No.”

“I could read it to you.”

“No.”

Pouting, Root threw herself down onto the couch. “Fine, but I’m going to die from boredom.”

“No, you won’t.” Shaw snorted. “You’re such a child.”

“I order you to bring me my dressing gown,” Root said, glaring at Shaw. She was currently wearing linen trousers and a thin cotton shirt. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

Shaw crossed her arms. “Shouldn’t you do that in your dressing room?”

“Why? You’re the only one here and you’ve seen me naked plenty of times before.”

A soft pink flush covered Shaw’s cheeks at the memory and she rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Standing, Shaw dropped her arms and strode past Root to the bedchamber. The order had been a bluff, Root expecting Shaw to make her get her gown herself. Now, she’d have to get naked in front of Shaw and change in the open. She hurriedly climbed off the couch and stood in the center of the room.

She stripped down until she was naked and shivering. It was warm outside and so her room was warm, too, but she wasn’t used to being totally naked. It made her feel exposed and a little bit dangerous. Shaw walked back into the room and froze, Root’s dressing gown clutched in her fist.

Her eyes slowly dragged over Root’s body, lingering on her breasts. Root had always felt self-conscious of her small breasts, but she knew that Shaw loved them and that made her like them, too. Continuing her survey, Shaw’s eyes moved to Root’s stomach, tracing down to her hips and the soft shadow of hair between her legs. She licked her lips and Root wondered what would happen if she ordered her to drop to her knees and put that mouth to work.

As if she heard Root’s thoughts, Shaw shook herself and met Root’s eyes. She frowned, holding out the dressing gown and shaking it impatiently. Root jumped forward and took it.

“You’re going to get sick like that,” Shaw scolded, looking away. “Get dressed and get in bed.”

Tying the dressing gown at her waist, Root raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I give the orders, Sameen. You know that.”

She sauntered forward, letting her arms swing at her side. As she passed Shaw, she pressed a soft kiss to her temple and made sure their shoulders brushed. Once she was in her bedchamber, Root quickly walked to her bed and climbed in, covering herself. She watched as Shaw turned stiffly and blew out the candle on Root’s vanity before settling into the chair by the door.

“Aren’t you tired of sitting upright?” Root asked, blinking innocently. “This bed is large enough for the both of us.”

“No.” Shaw narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Go to sleep.”

Sighing dramatically, Root rolled over. She wondered how long this stalemate would last and which one of them would give up first. Would Shaw ever kiss Root again? Would Root eventually get tired of chasing after someone who didn’t want her? The trouble was she knew that Shaw did want her. She was just resisting for some reason. Root cleared her mind and fell asleep.

Root woke sometime later, blinking her eyes open and sucking in a breath. She sat up, looking around the room. It was dark, so she sat still as her eyes adjusted. It was obviously still night, only darkness shown through her window, and Root wasn’t sure what had woken her up.

Her eyes started to adjust and she looked to her door. Shaw was asleep, her head tilted to the side as she slept. It couldn’t be comfortable. Smiling, Root pushed her blanket aside and got out of bed, tip-toeing across the room. Shaw was out like a light, breathing steadily from her nose. This was Root’s chance.

She ran on her toes through her sitting room and out the door into the hallway. Another guard stood at attention, a spear in his hand. He jerked around when she closed the door, starting to point the spear at her. She just smiled and winked at him before hurrying away toward the kitchens.

When they were younger, Root and Shaw would sneak out of their rooms and meet in the kitchens to eat cake. They got caught a few times, but there had never been any consequences. She could only hope that there wouldn’t be consequences now. She didn’t need to be found murdered and covered in cream.

The kitchens were still and quiet, so she guessed she had only slept for a couple of hours. If it was almost dawn, the cooks would be beginning their routines and starting on bread. She loved to watch them work and smell the fresh bread and fruit. Maybe she’d just stay awake and wait for the day to begin.

For now, she went to the ice box in the corner and pulled out the remnants of the previous dinner’s cake. They had just gotten some chocolate a few days before, and she’d asked for some to be served every night since. It was a perk of owning the land and castle. Chocolate was Shaw’s favorite, too, and Root liked giving her a treat.

Putting it on the work table, Root dug through drawers for a fork. She dug into the cake, taking a large chuck from the side. It was almost to her lips when she heard a hiss and looked toward the door. Shaw glared at her across the room.

“Are you serious?” she snapped, furious. “You can’t wander off when someone is trying to kill you.”

Rolling her eyes, Root put the cake in her mouth, humming happily. Even a day old, the cake was perfect, sweet and soft. She met Shaw’s eyes as she pulled the fork from her mouth. Shaw just stomped across the room and snatched it from her.

“Root, I’m serious.” Shaw slammed the fork down onto the table. “Someone is out to kill you and running around the dark castle on your own isn’t safe. If something happened to you, I’d-” She clicked her tongue and turned away. “If you want cake, just tell me and I’ll escort you.”

Picking up the fork again, Root played with it distractedly, watching the way Shaw’s jaw clenched. She wasn’t worried about an assassin finding her in the darkness, but Shaw clearly was. There must have been more to the interrogation than Shaw had told her. Something had shaken her.

“Do you remember when we were teenagers,” Root said softly, focusing on the cake again, “and we’d sneak down here to steal bread rolls and sweets? Apple pie, banana bread, meat pastries?”

Shaw’s eyes darted toward her and away again. “Yes.” She tapped a finger on the table. It didn’t look like she was going to say anything more, but then she sighed. “You were always hungry.”

“So were you!” Root laughed. She stucked the piece of cake in her mouth and spoke as she chewed. “Your father was putting you through all that training and you were starving!”

“What was your excuse, then?” Shaw challenged, smiling. She finally faced Root and leaned forward onto the table. “You’re lucky you’re so skinny, or your mother would have murdered you. All those corsets and stockings and belts.”

Groaning, Root snorted and gave Shaw the fork. “Endless measuring!” She crinkled her nose. “‘But, darling!’” she said, imitating her mother. “‘How will you find a husband if you aren’t wearing a full corset? All ten layers of petticoats!’ Alas, a useless effort.”

Shaw didn’t respond. She ate a bite of cake, gazing thoughtfully at the table. Root wanted to know what she was thinking. Was she remembering what it had been like? They’d been so happy and carefree. There wasn’t a way to go back to that, not really, but they could move forward together. Root just wanted someone to talk to again, someone who really knew her and loved her. Shaw loved her, in her own way.

“You didn’t do anything,” Shaw finally said, her voice low. “I’m not mad at you, or upset. I just… Things changed, and I had to change, too.”

“We all changed,” Root tried, keeping her voice quiet like Shaw’s. “We both lost parents and had to step up.”

“But I’m not-” Shaw put the fork down, still not looking at Root. “It’s my job to protect you, Root.”

“I know. It’s always been your job.”

Shaw grit her teeth. “It was my father’s job. When he died- When my parents and your parents died, it all fell on my shoulders. I can’t get distracted. Not again.”

“Again?” Root frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the reason-”

A noise floated into the room from the hallway and Shaw stiffened, standing up straight. They waited, listening, for the sound, but the castle stayed quiet. The calm Shaw had was gone, and Root sighed, knowing she was about to be dragged back to her room and that conversation was done for the night.

Predictably, Shaw swung her head around, glaring at Root. “Bed. Now.”

Hiding her disappointment, Root grinned and shimmied her shoulders. “Ooh, I like how you think.”

“Enough.”

Root just huffed, feigning annoyance, and walked around the table, heading for the door. “It doesn’t seem very safe to go out into the hallway where the noise came from. I mean, wouldn’t it be safer to stay here?”

Grabbing her arm, Shaw pulled her out of the kitchens, not answering. Root looked longingly back at the cake, left on the table. It would probably be thrown away now, because it had been left out. What a waste. 

Sometimes, it was hard for Root to put on a brave and cheerful face. Ruling the March was exhausting and as much as she loved putting on personalities for visitors and keeping up a playful attitude with friends, she got worn out. Talking with Shaw just now, as brief as it was, had felt real. Root had felt like a real person.

She was going to have a real conversation again, with Shaw. They were going to talk. Root needed to be open and honest and she knew Shaw missed that, too. It was their ability to exist together, quietly and authentically, that drew them together. Although, the sex didn’t hurt either. Well, any more than it was supposed to.

They reached Root’s chambers and Shaw yanked the door open, tossing Root inside and locking the door. She looked like she expected Root to fight, but the energy had left her and she was tired. Root walked to her bedchamber without a word, getting into bed and pulling the covers over her. She didn’t even look at Shaw. She just closed her eyes and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start getting sexy next chapter!


	4. A Secret Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's earn that E rating! Also, a secret revealed.

Another week passed with Root locked away, and she really was going stir crazy. Her advisors had been coming to her chambers for meetings and Martine had even brought her dresses to try on. The summer tournament started in a few weeks and people would begin arriving soon. Root just had to hold on for a little bit longer.

Shaw had relaxed somewhat. Two weeks without incident had made her less tense and she was even beginning to talk to Root. They’d discussed a couple of books, gossiped about Finch and Reese’s possible relationship, and teased Zoe about her affinity for younger men. Root felt like they were finally making progress.

Now, they sat on opposite sides of a chess table, Root in her dressing gown and Shaw in just her undershirt and trousers. She wasn’t wearing her armor and she hadn’t in days. Root was happy to see her dressed down. It felt like old times again.

Shaw considered the board. Her king was in check for the fifth time. Root was very good at chess and Shaw very rarely beat her. It seems the years without practice only made her worse. Root just watched as Shaw frowned and sat back heavily.

“Fine,” Shaw sighed, knocking her king over. “You win.”

Root grinned and reached her hand across the table. “Another game? Sixth time is the charm.”

Begrudgingly shaking Root’s hand, Shaw nodded. “Might as well. There’s not much else to do.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel wanted,” Root joked. She started resetting the board, but noticed that Shaw was giving her a strange look and stopped. “What?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of joking?” She asked. “Don’t you ever just want to talk? Just be straight-forward?”

The question made Root’s heart pound. Of course she did. It was exhausting to pretend all the time and everyone expected it from her. She’d been performing since she was young. It was second nature, but it still wasn’t always easy.

“I could only by myself around you,” she answered, annoyed that she sounded upset, “but you don’t want that anymore.”

Shaw growled, throwing a chess piece onto the board. “Don’t tell me what I want!I’m tired of people telling me who I am.”

Blinking, Root sat back, surprised at the outburst. Shaw had never said anything like this before. She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you,” Shaw sighed. She rubbed her face, frustrated. “I’m just- I’m having trouble. Keeping my focus. My distance. From you. It’s so tempting to give in to you.”

“You don’t have to keep your distance, Sam. You’ve never had to. I don’t know why you’re trying so hard.”

“The last time I got distracted,” Shaw bit out, “you almost died.”

Root frowned. “What? What are you talking about? When?”

Shaw clenched her jaw, looking away. She was struggling to keep her composure, obviously angry at something. Root couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. The closest she’d ever come to dying was by the lake two weeks ago. There weren’t any big gaps in her memory either.

“When you broke your arm,” Shaw finally said. “When I pushed you from the tree.”

Root rolled her eyes, smiling fondly. “Years ago? I’m not upset about that. We were playing around. I was probably antagonizing you like always.”

“No.” Shaw scratched her forehead. “It- I pushed you out of the way of an arrow. It was an attempt on your life.”

Her blood ran cold. Root felt unmoored and unsteady, like the floor beneath her was the deck of a ship on rolling waves. No one had said anything when she’d woken from the fall with a broken arm. Shaw had been by her side, like always, and their parents had boarded a ship across the bay to the capital. She thought it was a last minute meeting called by Their Majesties. 

“What…” Root sucked in a deep breath, her voice catching in her throat. The panic from her advisors made sense now, and so did Shaw’s. Looking across the table, Root met guarded eyes. In their depths, she could see worry. “I didn’t know.”

“Our parents decided you didn’t need to know,” Shaw explained. “I wanted to tell you, but they said they would once they got back, but. Well.”

“They never came back,” Root finished. That would explain why the Book of Lineage had been on board. They were following the same lead that Root’s advisors were following now. She put on a brave face and shrugged. “Good to know the truth now. That doesn’t explain why you stopped loving me.”

Shaw groaned, closing her eyes. “You almost died, and it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I was so focused on you.”

“But I didn’t die,” Root pointed out. She started resetting the chess board again. “You did your job. You still are.”

“It was too close.”

Root rolled her eyes. “There’s no such thing as “too close” when it comes to life. It’s either ‘dead’ or ‘alive’ and I’m still alive. You saved me by the lake, too. Just seconds from kissing me, and you still saved my life. You’re a great protector.”

Shaw stared at her, face unreadable. Almost. Root could see how hard she was thinking, and how conflicted she was. One of her favorite things about Shaw was that she wasn’t ruled by emotion. Her decisions were thought out, purposeful, and she did what she thought was right. It had always made Root feel special to know that Shaw had chosen to love her. It would be easy to walk away, but Shaw had always chosen to stay.

At least, until Root had apparently almost died, and then Shaw had chosen to put distance between them. Like Root had always suspected, Shaw didn’t like the decision she’d made, but she made it and stood by it. Now, Root was trying to convince her to make a different choice and be with her again.

Sniffing, Shaw ran a hand over her head, smoothing down her hair and checking her tight bun. “Well, no need to keep testing my reflexes.”

The conversation was over, and they played another game in silence, glancing at each other across the table. Root was happy to know the truth now, about why her parents died and why Shaw had begun to ignore her. Shaw still loved her.

As the chess game continued, Root thought about how she was going to move her plan forward. Whatever lingering doubts she had were gone. She didn’t need to make Shaw love her again, she just needed to convince her to give into her desires. That wouldn’t be too hard.

Brushing her hair back, Root subtly moved her dressing gown, exposing her shoulder. Shaw noticed, her eyes trailing across a sharp collarbone and down to where the loose fabric covered Root’s breast. She licked her lips and moved a piece on the board, keeping her hand in place and her turn going. 

This was going to take too long. Root knew that Shaw was right and that she needed to stop playing games, but she still wanted Shaw to actually say she wanted to be together. Maybe it was time to go from reminding Shaw that she wanted Root to teasing her with what she was missing. Shaw lifted her hand, finally accepting her move. Quickly, Root moved her Bishop and put Shaw in checkmate.

“Well,” Root sighed, “looks like I’ve won again. She shrugged her bare shoulder. “I should get to bed. Blow out these candles and light two in my bedchamber.” She winked at Shaw. “That’s an order.”

Jumping to her feet, Root hurried away without giving Shaw a chance to respond. An idea had formed in her mind and her body had started to warm with anticipation. As she approached her bed, she untied her dressing gown and let it fall to the floor. She dove under the covers on her bed and settled onto her back.

The light from the other room lessened and Shaw walked into the bedchamber holding a candle. She crossed the room and lit another on the wall beside the door to the library. With only two candles, the room was dim, but she could still make out the features of Shaw’s face. It was also bright enough to illuminate the dressing gown on the floor when Shaw turned toward her chair.

Taking a deep breath, Shaw squatted and picked up the soft cloth with careful hands. She glanced at Root, eyebrows raised, before moving to the vanity. Putting the candle down, she hung the gown on Root’s chair before sitting in her own. Spreading her legs, Shaw got comfortable, hands loose in her lap and eyes fixed on Root.

Slowly, Root ran her hands over her breasts. Her body was covered by her quilt from her shoulders to her toes, but Shaw’s eyes flicked down to where Root was drawing lazy patterns on sensitive skin. A soft blush filled her cheeks and Root smiled.

Just looking at Shaw was enough to make heat pool between her legs. Root could think of a hundred memories of Shaw, naked and sweating and whimpering, but just the way Shaw’s eyes darkened made Root shiver. She squeezed her small breasts, mouth dropping open.

It had been weeks now since Root had touched herself and now she had the object of her affection in the room with her. It showed her strength that she hadn’t given in before. She groaned softly as she pinched hard nipples and Shaw’s lips parted. Root pushed the blanket down to her waist, exposing her breasts to Shaw and the warm air.

She covered her breasts again, teasing her nipples with the tips of her fingers, imagining they were Shaw’s deft hands. Shifting in her chair, Shaw sat up straighter, obviously affected. Scratching herself with her nails, she licked her lips, eyes fluttering.

“Touch your breasts,” she ordered, her voice startlingly loud in the silent room. “Now.”

Shaw obeyed immediately, her hands disappearing under her shirt. Root wished she could see Shaw’s breasts, too, but she knew Shaw wouldn’t get naked with the threat of an assassin barging in looming over them. She remembered Shaw catching the arrow in midair, the anger in her eyes that Root might get hurt, and moaned.

She dipped a hand between her legs, long fingers running through wet heat. It wasn’t surprising how much her body reacted to Shaw. Years of sex meant that her body knew what was coming, knew how good it would feel. She spread her legs, knees wide beneath the blanket.

“Undo your laces,” she gasped, rubbing herself slowly. “Touch yourself.”

Shaw quickly undid the laces on her pants, pushing a hand into her underwear. She groaned, eyes running over Root. The image of her, flushed and needy, made Root ache with want. She wanted Shaw on top of her, riding her thigh, thrusting inside of her. She wanted to see Shaw’s face dripping with Root’s pleasure.

Whimpering, Root pushed two fingers inside herself. Her hips bucked, desperate for more, and she relented, moving in and out of herself. Shaw moaned as she touched herself, panting. Knowing how affected Shaw was affected Root in turn. Her heels slipped against satin sheets as she lifted her hips, adding a third finger to her motions.

It was so unladylike to display herself like this, to clutch her breast and toss her head back, eyes closed. Root couldn’t bring herself to care. If a Marchioness couldn’t get fucked every once in a while, who could? If Root couldn’t display herself for Shaw as she raced toward her finish, then what was the point of anything?

“Sameen,” she gasped, opening her eyes again. She turned her head, meeting Shaw’s black eyes. “Are you close?”

Shaw nodded, her hand moving frantically in her pants. “Yes,” she choked out. “You’re a goddess.”

Moaning loudly, Root took her hand from her breast and used it to rub herself, the other still thrusting. “Do you miss it?” she asked, voice tight. “Do you want to touch me?”

“Yes,” Shaw answered. She squeezed her breast with her free hand. “I want you.”

“You can have me.” Root’s eyes slammed shut as her body started to melt, liquid tension filling her limbs. She sucked in air. “I- I order you. To come with me.”

Her body exploded, muscles shaking and tightening and quaking. She couldn’t stop the gasps and strangled cries that came from her as her hips bucked against her still moving hands. It was so much, almost too much, after so long without touching herself. She knew that Shaw was watching her and it only made the feeling stronger. 

Finally, she could breathe again in choking gasps and her body dropped back down to the bed. She opened her eyes, watching as Shaw relaxed, too. She’d missed it, too caught up in her own to see Shaw come apart. It was disappointing, but as Shaw pushed fallen hair from her face, she was too happy with the entire event to let the disappointment cloud it.

Shaw stared at her, chest heaving as she caught her breath. “That doesn’t count as ordering me around,” she said, voice breathy. “You aren’t wearing clothing.”

Laughing, Root closed her legs, pulling her covers over her chest again. “It counts.” She turned onto her side, facing Shaw. “Personally, I think all orders count.”

“You would,” Shaw joked, retying the laces on her pants. “Now go to sleep. Your fun is over.”

“Your fun is over,” Root repeated petulantly. She smiled devilishly at Shaw. “You said you missed touching me.”

Shaw narrowed her eyes. “Heat of the moment.”

“Mhmm. Blow out the candles.” 

Winking at Shaw as she stood, Root burrowed into her blankets and closed her eyes. It was almost funny how easily Shaw had given into her. One good conversation and Shaw had melted. At this rate, Root would fully have Shaw before the summer tournament. Knowing good dreams would come, Root let herself fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize how many of these chapters end with Root going to sleep lmao


	5. Private Dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a couple of chapters left!

Root sat on her throne, looking around at the various nobility scattered around the ballroom. She had spent another week trapped in her room, but it had been marvelous. Shaw hadn’t given in yet, but they spent the evenings performing for each other. Root almost felt like a teenager again, hiding away from the world to spend time with Shaw.

It would have been better if Shaw was the one touching her, but every little step counted. She’d even talked Shaw into taking her shirt off one night. Of course now her plans would slow again. The summer tournament began in a few days and people were beginning to arrive. Various nobility had come to her castle to show off either themselves or their knights. For Root’s March, Shaw’s protege, Genrika, was competing.

There would be a ball every night for the next few weeks and Root would have to dress up, sit on her throne, and pretend to be excited to see them. It was torture. Her legs were starting to hurt from the constant standing to greet someone and then sitting back down. Maybe she would order Shaw to carry her back to her chambers later.

Tearing her eyes away from Lord Pierce’s terrible dancing, she turned in her seat to look at Shaw, who stood beside her. Shaw was wearing her ceremonial armor. It was still leather, but it was smooth and pristine. The torso was made of three sections, overlapping dark red and brown. Silver studs shone brightly where they held it in together. The pauldrons were wide, extending from her shoulders in points, a series of straps covering her arms. Root traced a perfect arm with her eyes, landing on a gloved hand that was wrapped around the hilt of Shaw’s sword. She was as lethal with the weapon as she was with her equally sharp tongue.

Beneath the leather armor, she wore a yellow silk tunic. It brought out her brown skin, making it seem impossibly smooth and soft. Her legs were on display in brown hose, firm muscle emphasized by the clinging material. If she could, Root would have dragged her away from the ball and take the whole uniform off.

“Stop that,” Shaw muttered, still paying close attention to the room. To anyone else, she looked calm and unaffected by Root’s gaze, but Root could see the way her jaw clenched. “No distractions, remember?”

Pouting, Root sat back on her throne and surveyed the guests, too. “Fine. See anyone dangerous?”

“No.” Asmiled ghosted on her lips. “Other than Sir Leon’s lead feet.”

Root chuckled, knowing how much Sir Leon stepped on his partners’ feet from experience. She was happy that Shaw was talking to her, joking with her. It felt like old times. Although, back then, they both stood behind the throne. They’d watch as Root’s parents greeted an impossibly long procession of visibility. 

“Will you dance with me later?” Root asked. “I’ll let you lead.”

Shaw snorted, shifting in place. “I’m your guard. Not your date.”

“You could be both, Shaw.” root smiled at someone across the room. “How will you catch arrows for me if you aren’t beside me?”

At the top of the ballroom’s staircase, a herald appeared. He blew his small trumpet, signalling the arrival of a new guest. Lady Rose appeared at the top of the stairs, looking marvelous in a light green dress. Despite her recently giving birth, she looked well-rested and Root guessed there was a nursemaid somewhere in the castle to thank for it.

“Wow,” Shaw muttered as Harper as Harper descended the staircase. “I would not be at a ball so soon after having a baby.”

Root tried to picture Shaw pregnant and failed. “If you had a choice, you wouldn’t be at a ball at all. Do you want children?”

It was never something they had discussed. They both knew that Root would need an eventually, but the idea of parenthood always seemed so far away. Maybe Root should think about that more. For now, it was a problem for a later date.

Shaw shivered dramatically in response to Root’s question. “No. Any heir of mine will not be blood related.”

“Will Gen be the next Knight-Commander?”

“If she wins the tournament, I might consider it.”

Root smiled. Shaw acted tough, but she had a soft spot for her trainees. More than once, she’d stayed up all night to help a struggling student. For someone who basically had two emotions, angry and not-angry, Shaw cared deeply and strongly.

The conversation ended as Harper walked up to Root’s throne. She curtsied and Root stood to curtsy, too. It was just a formality and once they’d both straightened again, they laughed and moved forward to hug.

“It’s so good to see you!” Harper pulled out of the hug to look Root over. “Being Marchioness is treating you well.”

Root swept a hand over her skirt, posing. “Yes, I do flourish when I’m in charge.”

Snorting, Shaw stepped into their conversation. “Great, now she’s going to be insufferable.”

Harper rolled her eyes affectionately. “You look nice, too, Sam. Don’t be jealous.”

They smiled at each other and hugged quickly. Harper had been a good friend when they were growing up, even though she lived far away. She’d spent a few summers with them, getting into trouble and helping them sneak away to spend time together. Now, she was a mother and a duchess.

“I’m not jealous,” Shaw said. “I don't need compliments to boost my ego.”

“Ignore her.” root winked at Harper. “Speaking of looking good, how do you do it? You just had a baby!”

Harper laughed. “Thank god for good genetics, and thank you for your gift!”

“Of course. Though, you should really thank Joss.”

“Oh, I will.” Turning to scan the room, her eyes landed on finch. “But I think I’m going to go bother Harry first. Have fun, you two!”

She glided away and Root sat back down. Harper would probably keep Finch busy for the rest of the night, scandalizing him with tales of her exploits. It would be good for him.

Root was reminded of old times again, when Harper was their distraction. They would leave the ball to kiss in the shadows, only returning when they’d both been satisfied. She wished they could do that now.

“Do you remember,” Shaw started, moving back into place, “when we snuck away from the Christmas ball and Reese caught us with my hands up your skirt?”

Root had to hold in a loud laugh, covering her mouth with her hand and turning her face away from the crowd. She did remember. They had ducked into the library, not caring about privacy.

“I think he’s still embarrassed,” Shaw continued. She tilted her head. “Didn’t he also catch us in the kitchen a couple times?”

“Poor guy,” Root sighed. “So traumatized.”

They grinned at each other, but after a moment, Shaw’s smile faltered. Her grip tightened on her sword. Licking her lips, Root waited for her to speak, watching the thoughts move across her eyes. Shaw took a deep breath and gave her a small smile.

“Okay,” she sighed, running her free hand over her hair. “Maybe… When you’re safe again… We could talk?”

Root’s heart skipped a beat and a grin spread across her face. She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! We can! We can talk right now!”

Laughing, Shaw rolled her eyes. “I said when you weren’t in danger anymore, dummy.”

“I can’t wait!”

Shaw was saved from having to answer when the herald’s trumpet blew again. Root sat back in her throne, giving Shaw a pointed look that said ‘this isn’t over.’ An older man stepped up beside the herald and Root groaned. It was Prince Greer, the elder son of Their Majesties. 

They had chosen his younger brother instead and he was now king. Prince Greer lived in the lands beside Root’s, sending passive aggressive letters complaining about shepherds wandering onto his land. He was incredibly upset that he’d been passed over as heir to the throne, but the way he overtaxed his tenants made her glad he wasn’t ruling.

He strolled down the staircase, a blonde man trailing behind him. Root didn’t recognize him. Leaning toward Shaw, Root nodded to the pair. 

“Do you know who his champion is?”

“No,” Shaw answered, eyes sharp on the stranger. “He didn’t register a champion. Must be a late addition.”

They watched as he walked around the dance floor heading for them. Root wished it wasn’t customary to greet the lord or lady of the estate at a ball. She would have given anything to avoid talking to him. She stuck a smile on her face as he got closer.

“Marchioness,” he greeted in his slow, gravelly voice. “It has been a while.”

“Your Highness.” Root stood, dropping into a low curtsy. She spread her skirt with her hands, trying not to be jealous that Shaw didn’t have to curtsy because she was a guard. “It’s been too long.”

She straightened up, clasping her hands in front of her. He gave her a nod and gestured to the man beside him. Up close, Root could see that he was a similar age to her, although his pale skin told her that he didn’t get outside much. Probably a noble playing at being a knight.

“This is my champion,” Greer said. “He is Lord Lambert, my heir.”

Hiding her surprise, Root gave him a shallow curtsy. Lord Lambert bowed to her, stopping just short of a proper bow. She wondered if he was disrespecting her or if he didn’t understand how much lower in rank he was. The smarmy look he gave her answered her question.

“A pleasure, I’m sure.” She sat back down, signaling that she was done with the conversation. Even if Greer was a prince, this was her estate, and she was in charge. “I hope you enjoy the evening.”

“I was wondering if you had chosen an heir yet,” Greer murmured, not taking Root’s hint. “I am working on a will, and I didn’t know if I should give this March to Lambert or if you had an heir.”

Frowning, Root crossed her legs, resting her hands delicately on her lap. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why would the land go to your heir?”

He gave her a tight smile. “Ah. I supposed you might not know. I am next in line for the March, should something happen to you. Heaven forbid, of course.”

A chill ran down Root’s spine and she saw Shaw stiffen beside her. If Greer was the person who would inherit the March after Root’s death, then he was the one sending assassins to kill her. He was standing in front of her like there was nothing to worry about, while he was plotting to murder her and take her land. She shrugged casually, still smiling.

“Heaven forbid. I am currently choosing an heir,” she lied. “I know how fragile life is and I would want someone from the March to rule after me. It’s good to know that there is someone willing to step up should something happen before I can decide.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I’m here if you need anything. Enjoy the evening.”

He nodded to her again and walked away, Lambert trailing behind him. Root watched them go, annoyed by the way Lambert kept looking over his shoulder at her. He was definitely suspicious. She looked at Shaw.

“I know,” Shaw said before Root could speak. “I’ll have Fusco put a tail on him. You should get back to your room before he sends someone else after you.”

Root wrinkled her nose, pouting. “But we didn’t get to dance.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and gestured for Root to stand up. “If I agree to dance with you later, will you go to your room?”

“Yes, mom,” Root teased, standing and gathering her skirts in her hands. 

Before they could move, Lionel came hurrying up to them. He stopped in front of Shaw, hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath. Shaw shifted impatiently and he held up a hand.

“Another assassin was caught in the hallway near the kitchens,” he reported, panting. “Reese has got him in the council room.”

Shaw growled and fisted her hand in the front of Lionel’s tunic. “Take Root to her rooms and if I find one hair out of place, you’ll be cleaning toilets for the rest of your life.”

Lionel nodded frantically and she released him. She glanced at Root for a moment before jogging away. Watching her cross the room, Root smiled. Shaw was so protective of her and Root knew that was how she cared. They were definitely going to dance later.

She let Lionel lead her out of the ball room to her rooms. The party would continue without her and she was glad to escape it. As Marchioness, she had to seem mature and refined, but that just made it hard to have a good time. It would have been nice to dance with Shaw in front of everyone, but it would be even nicer to dance alone.

When they got to her rooms, Zoe was there, waiting on a couch. Root greeted her, heading straight to her dressing rooms. It took nearly an hour to remove the layers of fancy dress, make-up, and hair pins. By the time they left the small room, Shaw was sitting by the door. Zoe winked at Root and left them alone.

“So?” Root asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. “What’s the news?”

“It’s Greer,” Shaw sighed. She started undoing the clasps of her armor. “We’ll have to figure out a way to confront him. Harold is writing to Their Majesties. Hopefully we’ll hear back soon. They should be on the road, so our messenger will reach them quickly.”

Nodding, Root felt a yawn overtake her. Talking to so many people was exhausting. She smiled at Shaw, watching her take the stiff, formal armor off. When she was free of it, she laid it on the vanity, sitting back in just her tunic and hose. Shaw frowned at Root.

“No more games. You have to be public during the tournament and that makes it hard to protect you. Don’t go running off or sneaking away.”

“Don’t worry,” Root said, pretending to be serious. “I’ll stick close to you. You won’t be able to lose me.”

Narrowing her eyes, Shaw let her mouth crack into the hint of a smile. “At least all this hasn’t ruined your sense of humor.”

Pushing herself off the bed, Root held her arms out. “I believe I was promised a dance.”

“Really?” Shaw asked, throwing her hands up. “You just yawned. You must be tired.”

“Dance first,” Root whined. “Then I’ll sleep.”

Sighing loudly, Shaw stood and closed the distance between them. She pointed one foot in front of her and bowed deeply. Laughing, Root curtsied just as low, spreading her dressing gown wide and exposing her legs. Shaw straightened, looking at Root’s face and avoiding her bare skin.

“I don’t give in that easily,” Shaw said as she took Root in her arms and started them in a slow circle. “You can’t weaken me with bare skin and wide eyes.”

“I think I can.” Root leaned in to Shaw’s chest, pressing close. “Isn’t that how I won you over the first time?”

Shaw smirked. “It was your bad jokes. That, and your breasts. Like a fly to honey.”

Grinning, Root closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to Shaw’s head. “I guess the ‘how’ doesn’t matter so much. As long as it worked.”

“It did,” Shaw murmured. “It might again.”

“You promise we’ll talk?” Root asked quietly. “About us?”

Shaw nodded, the movement light against Root’s chest. She pulled away, dropping Root’s arms. “You should go to sleep. The next few weeks will be busy for you.”

Root didn’t answer. She climbed into bed, covering herself with the blanket. As much as she wanted to see Shaw come apart again, she didn’t have the energy to touch herself. Besides, she’d finally gotten what she wanted - a commitment from Shaw to discuss a relationship. Settling into the bed, she met Shaw’s eyes, catching a smile before she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaw really wants to be with Root, doesn't she? Damn this assassination plot!


	6. Watching You Watching Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait and post one huge chapter, but like... why? So, there are like 6 more chapters now lmao

Root settled back into her wooden throne, uncrossing her ankles. The tournament had begun and that meant she was forced to sit outside in the summer heat, all dressed up, for hours at a time. Because this was an important event, her hair and make-up was elaborate and impeccable. It was also wildly uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as her dress, but close.

Beside her, Shaw sat with her legs spread, looking as gorgeous as she had the night before. She wore her dress armor again and the warmth was making her sweat just a little bit. Her neck glistened and Root knew exactly how salty and wonderful it would taste if she pressed her tongue into her skin. Instead, she crossed her ankles again.

Carter sat on her other side, wearing a fine silk tunic the same gold as Shaw’s. She wore the same brown hose as well, and Root was overwhelmed with jealousy. Maybe she’d pass a law allowing nobility in her lands to wear hose. Martine would love to design something other than dresses.

Another thing Root disliked was how far she was from the action. Finch had had several rings built for combat and each one had a circle of wooden seating around it, benches for the general public and a special, elevated building for Root. She was seated high above the close combat ring now where Gen was fighting another champion. Like Shaw, Gen was amazing with a sword and Root definitely expected her to win. She just wished she could get a closer view.

A throat cleared, and Root blinked, realizing that she had been staring blankly at the fight below. She looked at Carter, meeting an amused gaze. Smiling sheepishly, Root shrugged.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “What were we talking about?”

Shaw snorted. “We were trying to decide if Greer needs to be locked up now, or if we should wait for Their Majesties.”

“I think we need to wait,” Carter offered. “Appearances matter unfortunately, and locking him away without proof would be damaging.”

“I don’t like the idea of Root staying in danger.” Shaw crossed her arms. Her eyes were fixed on Gen’s fight. “If Greer is free, more men will come.”

Sighing, Root adjusted her skirts. “I’m not too worried for my safety. I’ve been fine so far. Still, I would enjoy seeing Greer locked away.” She tilted her head to smirk at Shaw. “Then you’d be following me around by choice and I wouldn’t feel so guilty.”

“Alright,” Carter interrupted, shaking her head. “I guess he’ll stay free for now. Our messenger returned this morning. Their Majesties acknowledge your concern, but they’ve stopped at Lady Schiffman’s estate. You know how Her Majesty enjoys the lady’s… company.”

They laughed and Carter stood, bowing to Root before walking away. She had her own business to attend to, unlike Root, whose sole duty for the next two weeks was watching the tournament. Shaw leaned forward to rest her arms on the railing that separated their seats from the open air. Below them, Gen knocked her opponent down with a sharp knee to the stomach and stuck her sword under his chin, winning the bout. Subtly pumping a fist, Shaw smiled proudly.

“Not bad,” she said quietly. When Gen looked up at them, Root waved, and a second later Shaw waved, too. “She really would be a good successor. If she learns how to keep a schedule.”

“That’s cute,” Root teased, watching Gen and her opponent bow to her and head out of the ring. “You’re like a proud parent.”

Shaw scoffed. “Hardly. She’s just a good student.”

“Okay.” That got Shaw to look at her, and Root lifted her eyebrows suggestively. “You know… We have a pretty private area… I bet we could get away with whatever we want.”

Shaw opened her mouth to answer, but a trumpet blew, signalling the start of the next bout. The two competitors entered the ring and Shaw’s attention shifted to the ground below. They watched as Lambert, Greer’s Champion, strolled into the ring, more smug than he had any right to be. Shaw bared her teeth at him.

“He walks around like he owns the place,” she said through clenched teeth. “Fuck appearances. If he puts one toe out of line, I’ll rip his head off.”

Root smiled, resting her elbow on the arm of her chair and dropping her chin onto her fist. She looked at Shaw with admiring eyes. “Remember the year that you were the Champion?”

Shaw snorted, keeping her eye on the men below as they bowed to Root. “Oh, yes. Every second I wasn’t fighting, you were trying to make-out with me.”

“I can’t help it if the tournament is in the summer and you look heavenly when you’re sweaty.”

Rolling her eyes, Shaw sat back in her seat, lifting a leg onto the railing. “That was the year my father let me stop wearing dresses.” She smirked. “And the year your mother walked in on us while we were… indisposed.”

The memory of her mother’s face came back to Root and she laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the competitors down below. Lambert spared her a withering look as he blocked his opponent’s sword. Root let her grin stay on her face.

“She was scandalized,” Root remembered. “I don’t think we spoke for a month. Didn’t your mother give you a long lecture on decency?”

Shaw frowned, crossing her arms. “Yeah.” She seemed lost in her own memory for a moment. A breeze blew through their platform, mercifully cool. Shaw shook her head and sat up straight, adjusting herself in the chair. “She and my father didn’t like that I was reaching above my station.”

Root’s grin faded to a small smile. “My father said the same thing. He told me that I should marry up. They’re dead now, so who cares?”

Giving her an incredulous look, Shaw smiled. “You are so bad.”

“Yup.” Root hummed happily, leaning toward Shaw. “But you like it.”

Narrowing her eyes, Shaw turned away, looking back down on the bout. Root let her be and focused on the bout, too. It would do them some good to watch Lambert and see what kind of fighter he was. If Greer had brought him along, then he was important to the scheme.

Lambert was fighting someone Root recognized. Lord Pierce, Logan, was notorious for throwing lavish parties and surrounding himself with influential people. Root and Shaw had gone to a few of his parties, but they usually left before the end. Neither of them cared to stay up until the sun rose and he kept his guestrooms well-stocked with alcohol and a variety of sexual gifts. Overall, he was a good friend and a mediocre landowner.

From what Root could remember, he was a gifted swordsman. Never as good as Shaw, but he could get a couple of blows in. Now, he seemed to be besting Lambert. They were both sweating and clearly winded. Lambert had a deep scowl on his face, glaring across the ring at Logan, who had stolen Lambert’s smug look.

They watched as Logan ran toward Lambert, his sword gripped tightly in his hands. Just before they met, Lambert swept his hand along the ground and threw a fistful of dirt into Logan’s face. Shaw leapt to her feet, growling. It was a dirty move, but not technically against the rules.

Logan stumbled backwards, his sword dropping as he tried to wipe the dirt from his eyes. Jumping forward, Lambert swung his sword against the back of Logan’s legs, knocking them out from under him. He landed on the ground with a heavy thump. The trumpet blew and Lambert grinned up at Root and Shaw.

He dipped into a low bow before sauntering out of the ring. A page jogged to Logan and helped him up. Taking a handkerchief from the page, Logan cleaned his face off. Smiling up at Root and Shaw, he gave them a quick wave. Shaw nodded sharply and Logan walked away.

“Logan’s a menace, but he’s a fair competitor,” Shaw said angrily. “He didn’t deserve that. Lambert is a coward who can’t face a superior opponent. Where did Greer find scum like him?”

“I don’t know,” Root sighed, gazing up at Shaw. “You’ll keep me safe, right?”

Shaw glared down at her, the twitch of her mouth giving her away. “I’ll catch any arrows that come at you, yes.”

“Good.” Root held out a hand. “The swordfights are over for the day. Take me to the jousting ring.”

Taking Root’s hand, Shaw gave her a playful bow. “Yes, My Lady.”

A shiver ran down Root’s back and she had to resist the urge to kiss Shaw. As much as she wanted to, she knew that they really shouldn't be distracted. Instead, she let Shaw pull her to her feet and wrapped her hand around a strong, leather covered bicep. Shaw led her to the stairs, as if she were Root’s consort. The idea made Root feel warm.


	7. Distracted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Shorty

Three days later, Root found herself on another wooden dias, wearing another uncomfortable dress, and watching another competition. This time, they were at ground-level. Shaw stood at the railing, resting her elbows on the steady wood to watch the proceedings. Her hips were cocked to the side, one foot crossed over the other.

Root loved that she was relaxing. It felt right to be together like this, just existing in the same space. Of course, Root wouldn’t mind if they were to do something more fun, but this was good, too. She loved any opportunity to watch Shaw.

Nothing had happened since the last assassination attempt. Root could only hope that it was as annoying for Greer as it was for her. She was getting tired of all the security and secrecy. When this was over, she was going to make Shaw take her back to the lake. They would swim together and Shaw would feed her fresh strawberries.

A loud thwack sounded as an arrow hit a target in front of them and Root sighed. The archery ring was larger than the sword-fighting ring. It was wide and most of the seats were behind the shooting line. Five archers stood in a line, each in front of their own target as they waited their turn to shoot. Once they had all shot and their score had been recorded, they would move back to the next line and go again. 

Shaw pumped her fist subtly, pushing herself off the railing and turning around. Leaning back against the wood, she smirked at Root. “At this rate, Gen will be Champion for sure. She’s hit three arrows dead center.”

“You’re a good teacher.” A memory came to Root and she chuckled. “You taught me how to throw knives.”

Shaw smirked. “You were good, but you’d never be a champion.”

Pouting, Root adjusting her skirt, feigning hurt. “That’s rude. I was fantastic. I can’t help it that you were so distracting.”

“You can’t always use that as an excuse,” Shaw chastised. “I’m not that distracting.”

“That’s what you think,” Root muttered, looking up at Shaw. “I’m still so distracted by you. The way you move, the way you talk, the way you look at me. You’re amazing, Sameen. I’ve missed you.”

Shaw’s face was unreadable as she stared down at Root through hooded eyes. It was a look that sent a shiver down Root’s spine. After a moment, she turned her head to look at the competitors as they moved back to the next line.

“Gen will be thrilled to be Champion.”

Smiling softly, Root nodded, letting the subject change. “I’ll need to choose a song for the Winner’s Ball. I’ve never danced with Gen before. “Maybe we should practice. Or would dancing before she’s made Champion be bad luck?”

“I forgot about that.” Shaw looked at her again, curling a perfect lip in disdain. “Do you have to dance with the Champion? Just skip that step.”

Root’s smile spread into a grin and she crossed her arms. “Jealous? Afraid that I’ll trade you in for a younger model?”

Shaw stuck her tongue out. “I’m afraid you’ll step on her foot and then she’ll be a useless Champion.”

“Sure, Sameen.”

Another arrow hit a target and Shaw looked over her shoulder. The muscles in her neck stretched and Root followed the line of her shoulder, up her neck, to her strong chin. It wouldn’t be so terrible to have Shaw as her consort. Fusco could take her place and Gen could step into Fusco’s role. Then, Root would have Shaw all to herself and they would run the March together.

Shaw would probably refuse if Root proposed marriage. She was dedicated to keeping Root safe. That wasn’t a bad thing, but Root wanted to be more than just safe. She wanted to be happy and thriving and she would do that by being a great Marchioness with Shaw at her side. 

“Lambert’s next,” Shaw muttered, still looking over her shoulder. “I hope he slips and falls on his own arrow.”

Root smiled. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

Shaw turned to glare at her and Root saw something flash beside her head. Throwing her hand up, Root caught an arrow inches from her face. She stared at the sharp, iron arrowhead in wonder, a little bit disoriented.

Ripping the arrow from Root’s hand, Shaw vaulted over the railing, stomping toward Lambert. “I’m going to kill you,” she snapped through clenched teeth.

Root jumped to her feet, hurrying to the railing. She couldn’t leap after Shaw in her dress, so she was forced to watch from the sidelines. Lambert was already on the ground when Shaw reached him and threw the arrow at his face, cutting his cheek. She fisted her hands in his tunic, hauling him off the ground in one easy motion.

“I’m going to rip your throat out,” Shaw growled. “How dare you?”

“Shaw!” Fusco called, running up to them. “Stop!”

Not taking her eyes off Lambert’s pale and bleeding face, she shook her head. “I’m going to pull your guts out through your mouth until you suffocate.”

Root couldn’t help the heat that pooled low in her stomach at the anger in Shaw’s voice. There was something dangerous in the way she threw her words like weapons. Seeing her rippling with anger made Root want to bring her to her knees that much more. 

Fusco reached Shaw and grabbed her arm, trying to wrest it from Lambert’s tunic. “Shaw, stop. It was an accident. He tripped.”

“Like hell it was.” She shook Lambert, sending his head flying backwards. “This little rat planned this.”

“I didn’t,” Lambert gasped. “I did trip!”

Shaw growled. “You’re so confident in the ring, throwing dirt in other men’s faces, but when the time comes to be a man yourself, you prove that you’re just a boy. A coward.”

Lambert’s scared face flickered slightly, something darker lurking beneath. He recovered quickly and looked at Fusco pleadingly. “Please. I just fell.”

“Enough!” Root called from her dais. “Let him go. No harm came to me and the competition must continue.”

Stilling, Shaw seemed as frozen as a statue. “He almost killed you.”

“That’s an order,” Root responded firmly. “I order you to let him go and come back to me.”

Hesitating for a moment, Shaw finally nodded. She threw Lambert backwards, turning her back on him before he’d even hit the ground. Her face was blank and controlled as she walked back across the ring to where Root waited. The twitch of her jaw told Root that she was barely holding herself together.

When she reached Root, she hopped the fence easily. Her voice barely audible, Shaw said, “You know it was on purpose. I’m taking you back to your room.”

“I know,” Root sighed, wrapping her arm around Shaw’s bicep. “Why don’t we visit the training room? You can take out your anger on some dummies and I can watch from a safe distance.”

Shaw didn’t answer, but she led Root off the dais toward the castle. “I didn’t catch the arrow.”

Root grinned. “No, I did. I told you I can take care of myself, Sameen. I’m a big, strong girl.”

“Of course.” Shaw’s mask cracked just a little bit as a hint of a smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “The strongest.”

“This time _you_ were distracted by _me_. That’s new.”

“No, it’s not,” Shaw replied. “I’ve been distracted by you since the day we met.”


End file.
